Most Delightfully Situated Through Her Means
by Ms Pimprenelle
Summary: Lady Catherine, on her way to Pemberley, finds herself a travel companion and decides to be of use.


This one-shot was my first attempt at a serious story. Not sure whether _serious_ is the most appropriate term, but it'll do! Since I find that playing with the characters is part of the appeal of JAFF, don't be surprise if they differ from their canon counterparts—some more than others.

If some sentences sound suspiciously like Jane Austen's then they're probably hers. :-)

* * *

 **A note regarding the changes made to the Canon Timeline before this story began:**

Up to the Netherfield Ball, events in P&P have happened more or less as in Canon, with the exception that **Darcy left Hertfordshire early**. Wickham, not having spotted Darcy in Meryton, did not share his story with Elizabeth at Mrs Philips's party; and since the gentleman is already gone by the time of the ball, neither did Collins reveal that he is his patroness's nephew.

* * *

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was displeased. Most seriously. She was on her way to Pemberley, her nephew's estate in Derbyshire, where all the family was to meet for Christmas.

She had left her estate in Kent, Rosings, two days before. Her maid, Dawson, accompanied her. Anne, her daughter, had stayed home with her companion, as she had claimed her delicate health would have been endangered both by travelling to, and staying in a place so cold as Derbyshire in the winter.

They had spent one night in London and were now to stop for a couple of hours at a posting inn in a little town in Hertfordshire that was quite unremarkable. Lady Catherine would normally not have stopped at such a place, but the carriage had suffered from the road conditions, and it had been deemed necessary to make some repairs as quickly as possible, thus Lady Catherine had to wait. The inn was not of the sort that could offer adequate accommodation to an Earl's daughter, and as she did not want the innkeeper to lament over his incapacity to serve her properly and to give her her due – such a discourse would only serve to annoy her more – Lady Catherine had not given the man her real name.

On entering the common room, she had noticed the young lady sitting all by herself in a corner. She could be a gentlewoman or some well-doing tradesman's daughter. It was sometimes difficult to tell. But she certainly should _not_ have been sitting alone, and rather than making a fuss when the innkeeper told her there was no private parlour available, Lady Catherine had decided to sit at a table where she could keep an eye on the young lady, intending to give a piece of her mind to whoever was in charge of her. She always had been exceedingly attentive to those things.

One hour later, the young woman was still alone. She had lifted her head every time someone entered the inn, only to drop it again with a disappointed expression. The more time that passed, the more worried she seemed. She was visibly waiting for someone, and Lady Catherine thought she would request the girl's company rather than wait by herself. After all, she would still be there one more hour at least, and it would be more proper if the young lady were at her table. Moreover, Dawson could not provide much conversation, and Lady Catherine found herself not a little bored. _If I can help it, I will never travel alone again._ Since giving the young lady a lecture on propriety and putting her back on the right track would relieve her boredom, she had a maid ask the traveller to come to their table. The young lady seemed surprised but soon rose and complied with the request.

As she neared them, she appeared to hesitate.

"Do take a seat, young lady. I am ... Mrs Cabourg, of Aster Park, in Kent."

"Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire, madam."

Longbourn? Bennet? She had heard those names recently. She was quite certain she did not know any Bennets, though. So the young miss was a gentlewoman. _Where_ was her escort?

"You seem to be unaccompanied?"

"I ... I am waiting for my relatives, madam." Elizabeth thought that, despite her anxiety and the older lady's annoying inquisitions, it would be impolitic to snap at her and hoped she would just make polite, meaningless conversation while she waited for her uncle. Unfortunately, her ladyship was of another mind.

"Where have they gone? I have been watching you for some time, and never saw anyone with you. Why did you not send a servant to look after them?"

"I wrote to them a few hours ago. Their answer should arrive any time now—they live in London."

"In London? You are travelling there alone? Heavens! Was nobody sent to escort you? It is highly improper for a young lady to travel on her own! Your father must have had a manservant to spare, or at the very least a maid!"

Miss Bennet had begun to pinch her lips and narrow her eyes, but the mention of her father made her deflate. Her previously squared shoulders slumped.

"My father ... is rather displeased with me for now. He ..."

Here she swallowed.

"He cast me out."

Lady Catherine frowned.

"Did he? What did you do for him to do such a thing?"

It was as if a dam had broken. Elizabeth suddenly found herself saying to that stranger all the words she had hitherto repressed.

"I refused to marry my cousin, I ... I just could not. Even if it would have been the means to secure my family's future after his death, as he is the estate's heir. But he is also pompous, ridiculous, full of himself and I could barely abide him taking my hand. I do not like nor respect him; I do not think I ever will, and ..."

 _That sounds eerily like Collins ..._ Now that she thought of him, Lady Catherine was nearly certain _he_ was the one who talked about the Bennets and Longbourn. He _did_ fit the description she was hearing, and she _did_ counsel him to marry one of his cousins.

"... and I am not made to be a meek parson's wife, and kowtow to his busybody of a patroness ..."

 _Definitely Collins_ , thought Lady Catherine, trying, and failing, not to feel offended. How could Collins have chosen such an impertinent young lady for his bride? She would never have fitted. Had her parson no sense? _Silly question_.

"... and Papa told me I was either to marry him or to leave home and never return, and my mother and sisters supported that scheme, all of them, and he told me I had a week to change my mind; I immediately wrote to my Aunt in London asking them to take me in, I know they could use additional help with the children, but they didn't answer, and _then_ he was accepted by my oldest friend, and they would not keep me—I had to leave, so I came here, because I could not possibly go to _London_ by myself, since I had no idea if my uncle and aunt were home or if I would arrive on their doorstep only to find a closed door, and perhaps this is why they did not answer; I have written again by express to tell my uncle where I could be reached, but it has been hours, and they still have not answered and if they do not soon I will have to find some lodgings here. Well, not _here_ ; I think the local dressmaker was looking for someone to help her, perhaps—"

Elizabeth suddenly quieted, and her head snapped towards the door. A man had just entered the inn. He seemed far too young to be the uncle who had been spoken of, and it soon appeared that he was the messenger who had been sent that morning. He spotted Miss Bennet, gave her an envelope, and departed.

Elizabeth hastily tore the seal and scanned her letter. She paled, glanced at another letter that was enclosed, and broke into tears.

Lady Catherine, whose main occupation in life was minding the business of others, thought nothing of picking the letters and reading them.

 _Gracechurch Street, December 4_

 _Lizzy,_

 _Mrs Gardiner and I did receive your letters. We wish to inform you that we will not support you after you refused to do your duty to your family. Your father told us what happened; we enclosed his letter so that you can see for yourself that we could not have helped you, even if we had wished – and we do not , for have you thought what would become of your mother and sisters once your father is dead? If you had accepted your cousin, they would have stayed in Longbourn, but by refusing him, you placed that burden upon us . You also materially lessened the chances for your sisters to marry, for it would have been more comfortable for a young man to propose knowing that he would not have the whole family to care for one day. That you would seek to rely on our generosity after showing so much selfishness is hard to believe._

 _Do not bother to contact us again._

 _Edw. and M. Gardiner_

Her ladyship pinched her lips and continued with Mr Bennet's missive.

 _Longbourn, November 30_

 _Gardiner,_

 _Three days ago, Lizzy refused to marry my heir, who is now engaged to one of our neighbours. I intend to disown her, and if she comes to you for help, I ask that you turn her away, or I will not allow your presence at Longbourn, nor permit any of the girls to visit you in the future. I do not care what she becomes. I wash my hands of her._

 _I do, however, look forward to seeing you for Christmas._

 _Bennet_

Lady Catherine, seeing that Elizabeth was still crying, folded the letters and put them in her reticule. She had first thought the girl was running away from home to meet a lover, but the situation was quite different. She felt incensed on her behalf. Miss Bennet, impertinence put aside, seemed to be a clever young lady, and would have been dreadfully unhappy in Hunsford. This would not have been a very good example of marital felicity to give the parishioners. She had spoken of taking care of her cousins—maybe she could help her to find a place as a governess in a decent family.

It was nearly time for her ladyship to continue her journey, and she could not in good conscience leave Miss Elizabeth Bennet behind. Moreover, she reasoned that, by taking her along for the trip, she could learn more about her character and accomplishments in order to discern in whose family she would fit best.

"Now, Miss Bennet, such a display is unladylike! Pull yourself together. Where are your trunks? My driver will fasten them to the coach. We shall be on our way in a quarter hour or so."

Elizabeth had stopped crying and opened her mouth, but visibly did not know how to answer.

"Your luggage, young lady?" asked Lady Catherine again.

"What—why?" asked a flabbergasted Elizabeth.

"Your family does not want you. It would not do to leave you alone. You are coming with us."

"I ... You ... _Excuse me_?"

Lady Catherine refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Just tell Dawson where your things are, and be ready to go."

Ten minutes later, they were on their way.

* * *

Elizabeth was sitting on the carriage bench next to Dawson, facing her new acquaintance. She was still trying to understand what had just happened in the last couple of hours. Her family had disowned her, and the overwhelming lady sitting regally on the other bench had taken her under her wing. But for how long? What was she getting herself into? Elizabeth felt uneasy and wondered, for what felt the hundredth time since they had left the posting inn, if she had taken the right decision, still coming up with the same answer – it had not been as if she had had a lot of choices to begin with. She sighed, and turned to look at the passing scenery.

"We are nearing Stevenage, I believe. We shall not stop there, as the horses are still fit enough, but continue to Baldock where we will spend the night. Dawson, you will see that a bath is made ready for us at once."

"Yes, your ladyship," the abigail answered.

Elizabeth frowned and looked at the older lady. No mention of any title had been made earlier.

"Your _ladyship_?" she asked, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

"I was not exactly truthful when I introduced myself earlier. I had my reasons to stay anonymous at that inn—it is not one of the sort I usually descend in. I strongly suspect you may already have heard about me—I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of Rosings Park."

Seeing Elizabeth's alarm on indeed recognising the name, she added: "Fear not—I have absolutely no intention to punish you for failing to accept Mr Collins's suit. How he could imagine that you would have been a suitable wife to him is beyond me."

The younger lady was still recovering from the shock of learning that her rescuer was none other than her cousin's overbearing patroness. She also wondered if she had just been insulted, and gripped the edge of her seat in order to stop the trembling of her hands.

Nothing was said for some minutes, after which Lady Catherine continued.

"I shall have to find you a position. I have enough connexions with decent families to be certain to find one who is in need of a governess or a companion, and who would be satisfied with having you in their employ."

Elizabeth started. She had not, until now, realised what the outcome of her family's abandonment would mean for her own consequence in the world. If she decided to find some employment, it would be a step down from her current situation as a gentleman's daughter, and she would probably never marry.

She opened her mouth to object to such a degradation but thought better of it. Why should she mourn this? Employment or not, her status had been lost with her family's rejection. As for marriage, there never was much chance for her to marry anyway. She used to jest with her elder sister about being destined to care for her nephews, but after all of her sisters had let her down, the memory left her with a bitter taste.

When she spoke, she sounded rather disheartened and felt tears threatening to fall, but managed to force a smile.

"I would be grateful for your help, your ladyship."

She promised herself to find a way to be content, and maybe even happy, in her new life.

Lady Catherine had left her alone during the evening, but as soon as they departed the inn the following morning, she began to question Elizabeth. What kind of education did she have? What were her accomplishments? Had she already taken care of young children – her ladyship remembered her mentioning cousins earlier? How many of her sisters were out? When did she come out herself? Elizabeth answered patiently to all of those questions, even those that were more personal. As she had been out at fifteen, she hoped that the length of her experience with society would compensate, in her ladyship's eyes, the lack of sophistication of the society she had been living in.

The varnish may change, but people were the same everywhere, after all.

The conversation turned, focussing on her likes and dislikes, habits, and capacities to act as a hostess. Elizabeth rightly understood these questions as being relative to her general knowledge and ability to teach a young lady near to enter the marriage mart and had no misgiving to answer those.

The conversation made Elizabeth a little melancholy—by talking about what she knew, she reminisced about her mother and father, who respectively taught her to manage a household and to improve her mind—but as Elizabeth was not formed to be unhappy, the remembrance of some joyful memories helped her spirits to improve somewhat.

* * *

They had been travelling for two days, and Lady Catherine was dismayed. There was no possibility for Miss Bennet to be hired as a governess; her education had been too unusual for that. Maybe she would do as a companion, but who would like to employ such an outspoken person? And yet she wished to help the country miss. She rather liked her and even thought that, if their situations in life were not so different, they could become friends.

She looked at Elizabeth again. _She will not make a good governess, but she probably would make a good wife_. Her accomplishments were not outstanding, but she had some integrity of character. Before her family had cast her out, she had been expected to marry a gentleman and educated accordingly. She might not have had as many masters as she should, but she knew how to manage a household and was well-prepared to be the mistress of an estate, however big. Unlike her Anne. _Wait! Where did that come from?_

All at once, she saw what she had refused to see since her nephew came of age: he would never choose to marry her daughter. Had he wished to, he would have done so already. And Anne did not seem to mind—Lady Catherine was struck with the unpleasing thought that Anne might even have faked her recent bout of illness in order to avoid being put in her cousin's path. How very vexing! But maybe it was time to let that dream go. All that planning around cradles might well have been done for nothing. She sighed.

Her mind flew back to Miss Bennet. Which young men in want of a wife did she know of? Besides her nephews, of course. But just as she was about to dismiss them, she was struck by the thought that she would like to maintain some kind of friendship with Elizabeth. It would be far more practical if the young lady became her niece—how would it look if it became known that she exchanged letters with the wife of a minor gentleman or some distant clergyman? That would not do.

She decided to determine which one of her nephews would be more suited to be Elizabeth's husband and, after a second, decided that the middle one would not do, as he was too fond of his lifestyle to afford not to marry for money—and she had none to give them. The other two were rich enough to marry as they pleased. She would see how the young people would get along during their stay before drawing any conclusion; for now, she intended to learn more about her charge.

"What do you think of books, Miss Bennet?"

* * *

They had been travelling through woods, pastures and fields for what seemed hours since Lady Catherine has announced that they had entered the grounds. Elizabeth threw a glance at Dawson, who was dozing beside her, and looked back at Lady Catherine, who was serenely sitting in the middle of her seat.

"Are we there yet?"

Her ladyship gave her a condescending smile.

"Fear not, we will arrive before dark." Gliding gracefully on the side, she added, "Come, sit near me. You will have a better view of the house as we arrive."

Elizabeth sat on the forward facing seat and looked at the landscape. One minute later, the carriage began to descend, and as it took a turn, she stopped breathing. From where she was seated, she had a picturesque view on the other side of the valley, where the house was built. It was beautiful as were the grounds; both complimented each other. Elizabeth could not take her eyes away from it.

"It is magnificent. A beautiful place. I … I find I lack words."

Lady Catherine nodded.

"Of course, it would still be better if the gardens were more formalised."

"Oh no!" cried Elizabeth. "The harmony would be spoiled if they looked any less natural. That way, nature is like a ... a jewel case for the house."

Her ladyship muttered something. If Elizabeth had been listening to her, she would have discerned some words—"young people today," "no sense of architecture," "such strange tastes." But as it was, she was lost in her admiration for the house. She wondered what the estate's name was. Her ladyship had only told her it was her nephew's home, but she named neither the nephew nor the place.

When they, at last, entered the courtyard, she could see that their host was waiting for his aunt on the steps. Though, because of her position in the carriage, she could not have a good look at him, he appeared oddly familiar to Elizabeth. He came to help his aunt alight and extended his hand again only to find himself face to face with Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet!"

"Mr Darcy!"

Elizabeth could barely believe her eyes. The man had been the guest of a neighbour some weeks ago, and they had not gotten along well. For him to be Lady Catherine's nephew was a stroke of ill luck. She hoped he would put his dislike of her aside and would be civil to his aunt's protégé.

The awkward pause was interrupted by Lady Catherine.

"Do not stand there stupidly, Darcy. Will you not help Miss Bennet to alight?" She pinched her lips. "I did not know you were acquainted. Why did you not tell me that, Miss Bennet?"

"I did not know the nephew you were talking about was Mr Darcy, your ladyship. Truth be told, I did not even know you were related to him at all." Elizabeth wished to disappear into the ground.

Mr Darcy shook himself and offered Elizabeth his hand. She shakily took it, not daring to look at him, wishing to be anywhere but where she was. She felt like an intruder. Lady Catherine continued to speak as if nothing was amiss.

"Miss Bennet will take the room you have had made ready for Anne. There is no need for you to send a maid to tend to her, Dawson will do for both of us. I suppose you put me in the Rose Room as usual? Good. Is my brother already here? I wish to greet him as soon as possible. Dawson will take care of Miss Bennet for now—have someone escort her to her rooms. I will introduce her to the family later."

A bewildered Elizabeth was led up the stairs while Lady Catherine droned on, seemingly conversing with her nephew but actually making both the questions and the answers.

First in her mind was her nephew's reaction to this unexpected guest. She would have to watch them together, of course, but she was nearly certain that it would not take much to induce her youngest nephew to declare himself to Elizabeth. Moreover, as they had known each other beforehand, maybe Miss Bennet's flight from her home could be explained more easily, thus avoiding any risk of scandal—would it not have been natural for her to seek the assistance of her future aunt?

* * *

Mr Darcy was alone in the drawing room where the party was to meet before dinner. As they knew their mother would need some time to ready herself, his cousins had absconded to the billiards room, and their father had decided to join them. Darcy did not expect any of the ladies to come down until shortly before dinner time, and he enjoyed the few minutes of peace and quiet. As much as he liked his family, they could be boisterous at times—and their coming together after having been separated for months was certainly one of these occasions. But maybe they would behave since they had a guest. _Elizabeth_. He still wondered whether he was dreaming. _Elizabeth, here, at Pemberley_. He had left Hertfordshire the day after she and her sister had gone back to their home from Netherfield, the house his friend Bingley had rented in the neighbourhood of the Bennets, where the latter had spent a few days in bed rest after having caught a cold.

He had found himself too much in danger and had chosen to flee rather than being tempted to ask her for a dance—or more—at the ball Bingley planned to give. More than a fortnight later, he was still trying to forget her, mourning the fact she could never be his because, though she was the daughter of a gentleman, her situation in life was lower than his and her family's improprieties much too glaring to be ignored.

And yet, today she was _here_. At the invitation of his aunt, of all people. After having seen her in Pemberley, he did not wish to convince himself any more that her place was not at his side. He was sitting in an armchair, absently looking at the pattern of the rug, when a rustling noise made him raise his head. _She_ had entered the room.

She was as lovely as he remembered but her expression was a nervous one he did not think he ever saw on her face. He smiled and rose to greet her.

"Miss Bennet, I am afraid I did not welcome you properly earlier. Forgive me—"

"Sir," she cut him off. "I am the one who must beg for your forgiveness. I arrived in your home without invitation and—"

"Knowing my aunt, I doubt she left you much choice," he said with a smile.

Her eyes misted, and her lips began to tremble. Not expecting such a reaction, he grew alarmed.

"Please take a seat, Miss Bennet. Do you need something? A glass of wine? Please—it was not my intention to distress you. Forgive me."

 _His concern is actually genuine_ , she thought with a shock. She gave him a teary smile.

"I am quite well, sir. It is just that, in truth, I had no choice at all, but that was not your aunt's doing."

"That sounds rather ominous." Elizabeth seemed reluctant to develop this subject, and Darcy felt he should not push her now, but promised himself he would ask Lady Catherine how she ended with Elizabeth in tow as soon as he could do so discreetly.

That promise turned out to be superfluous as that lady entered the room and started to speak on the very subject that just had been dropped.

"Ah, Darcy, Miss Bennet! There you are. I suppose it is as well the others are not present yet. Nephew, I should probably have sent you word that Anne had stayed at Rosings, and then that Miss Bennet was with me, but as it would not have changed the arrangements you made for our visit, and the letter would have arrived barely one day before us, I thought I would spare the bother of writing from an inn. In any case, I could not leave Miss Bennet by herself on the side of the road."

"What?" said a perturbed Darcy. "You found Miss Bennet alone on the road?"

"Of course not. She had been marooned in a coaching inn—not that it is any better."

"What happened?" throwing a glance at Elizabeth, Darcy added quickly: "That is, if I may ..."

"Miss Bennet was not welcomed in her father's home any more," answered Lady Catherine.

"How could that be? From what I gathered, she was his favourite child!"

Lady Catherine merely shrugged.

"She was his favourite as long as she did as he pleased. He discarded her when she grew annoying."

"I _am_ right here," a scarlet Elizabeth piped in.

"I told Miss Bennet I would help her to settle into a new situation," continued Lady Catherine as if she had not heard anything. "And here we are. Now, I am glad to learn that you were already acquainted. Of course, I would have liked to make proper introductions, but if you already know of her family, so much the better."

A strangled noise could be heard in Elizabeth's vicinity, and Darcy cautiously said,

"I am not sure that _better_ is the most appropriate way to phrase it ..." and seeing Elizabeth's gaze darkening he hastened to add, "Miss Bennet, can you honestly tell me that you are always proud of the way your relatives behave?"

She glared at him.

"I do not love them less for that!"

"That is not the point. And besides, since you speak of love, I understand that it is rather one-sided, is it not?"

She deflated a little and visibly held back tears. Darcy suddenly wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her. Had his aunt not been present, he did not know if he could have restrained himself. Elizabeth seemed so lonely, so vulnerable. Almost lost.

As for him, he felt in the same situation as he was when at Netherfield. Miss Bingley had been rude and offensive towards Miss Bennet because she saw his regard for the young lady. If any of his admiration for her escaped him in the presence of his aunt, she would probably feel offended on behalf of Anne. Since her ladyship and Elizabeth actually seemed to get along nicely, he thought it would be cruel to act in a way to draw back one of her supporters. She did not need more opposition in her life for now. So he contented himself to smile at her as the remaining members of his family entered the room—first the men, and then the two remaining ladies. Lady Catherine greeted her sister-in-law and niece, who she had not seen since her arrival, and introduced Elizabeth to all before they made their way to the dining room.

Darcy and his sister took their places at the ends of the table, the former between his mother's siblings, and the latter between Lady — and her cousin, the Colonel. The Viscount sat between his mother and his aunt, and Elizabeth opposite him. She was asked a number of questions about her origins and upbringing again; her acquaintance with Darcy was also discussed. Something was said that made her realise Miss Darcy was temporarily without a companion, and she wondered if Lady Catherine thought she would do for the position.

The conversation at table had turned to marriage and, to the displeasure of Darcy, his uncle began to push him to declare himself to his cousin, as he had done many times in the past. It was too much to hope that his aunt would not hear the conversation and say her piece. When she turned towards him and opened her mouth, he steeled himself for what he knew would follow—a tale of promises made by mothers over cradles and of family duty.

"My brother is right," said Lady Catherine. "You should marry, Darcy. But maybe not Anne."

 _What? That is unexpected. What has happened to my aunt? Am I dreaming?_ He was not alone in his astonishment, and the table fell silent. His aunt must have realised that she had shocked them all, and explained further.

"Anne is obviously uninterested in a match with you, else she would have come with me, or at the very least given me some message for you. I must conclude that what I have wished for during all those years is not meant to be."

After a dozen seconds, she added: "You all should eat before it gets cold.

At this, her brother exploded.

"Catherine! We had planned this for years. The opinion of Anne is not relevant there. It would be a splendid match in terms of fortune—and you would renounce it?"

"Yes. I realised recently that a splendid alliance must not be done at the cost of our children's happiness," she said, giving him a pointed look. At the other end of the table, the Countess pinched her lips but said nothing.

The Earl huffed. "Very well—I shall see to it that Darcy is introduced to many eligible girls this season."

Her nephew's distress did not go unnoticed by Lady Catherine, nor did the few glances he shot in Miss Bennet's direction. _It should be the easiest thing in the world._

"There is no need for that. I feel certain that our nephew is quite capable of determining by himself who should be most suitable for him—and I do not think being fawned upon in a drawing-room might help him in any way."

The Earl looked suspiciously at her sister.

"You have someone in mind. Do not deny it—I know you too well."

She nodded tersely.

"Who?"

A few seconds passed in silence before Lady Catherine capitulated.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Darcy was very glad he had refrained from taking a sip of his wine. Elizabeth had not been as prudent and began to cough as discreetly as she could.

"You want him to marry _her_?" Lord —'s eyes were wide. "I ... I thought you were thinking of finding her a place as a companion to some young lady!"

His sister smiled.

"To tell the truth, I was at first. And in some ways, she will still have that responsibility—I thought her presence might do Georgiana some good. Above all else she will be a good partner in life for Darcy."

That gentleman had still not uttered one word. _I must be dreaming. This is the only logical explanation._ At last, he found his voice.

"I am certain she would be, Aunt."

"Then it is settled."

"But she has no money, no connexions!" The Earl was livid.

"At least, she is a gentle, proper young lady. This is more than can be said of several heiresses," the Countess chimed in.

"Not to mention that she is pretty," added Colonel Fitzwilliam as his brother nodded while Miss Darcy sat in quiet contemplation, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Elizabeth found her voice at length.

"Has anyone considered asking for _my_ opinion?"

All heads turned towards her. Mr Darcy was smiling at her. It was a most puzzling sight. Before she could be too much distracted, Lady Catherine addressed her.

"Miss Bennet, you would not make a good governess, I am afraid. You would fare better in marriage, trust me on this."

"But to _him_? We do not even _like_ each other!"

As she said that, she saw a look of shock and then a glimpse of sadness on Darcy's face, and realising that she had no wish to hurt him and that, moreover, she had been agreeably surprised by his behaviour since she arrived, quickly amended her statement to add: "We do not know each other at all. How would this be a sound basis for marriage?"

" _I_ do know him, and I feel that I have conversed with you long enough to know you quite well. I think you are well-suited and would be content together."

"How on Earth am I to answer that?"

"I wish you would say yes." Darcy had not intended to speak this aloud—but he had, and in the lull of conversation, everyone had heard him. That had to be the lamest proposal of all times, but there was no going back.

Elizabeth did not answer at first. She did not want to marry Mr Darcy more than she had wanted to marry Mr Collins, but it seemed an impolitic thing to blurt out in the presence of his relatives. Besides, that was not _wholly_ true—at least Mr Darcy was an interesting, if infuriating, conversationalist.

That proposal was far more than she could expect—even far more than she could have expected had she stayed at Longbourn. Had she been still in the bosom of her family, secure in their affection and convinced that the gentleman from Derbyshire was in every way hateful, she would probably have refused him without a thought. Now the situation had changed. First, her family's affections were not as strong as she thought they were—and second, contrary to what she believed, the young man was far from disapproving of her. And could be quite amiable. And his family appeared, by and large, ready to welcome her. She did not know what to think and had some difficulties to know what her own feelings were.

"I need to think—may I have some time before giving an answer?"

"Miss Bennet!" a flabbergasted Lady Catherine cried. "You cannot mean that you are entertaining the thought to refuse my nephew!"

"I am resolved to act in a manner that would benefit my happiness. I do need time to think about it. It is all ... very unexpected."

"Nonsense! You would have everything: money, connexions ... And even books and grounds arranged to your tastes. What more could you ask for?"

"Mutual respect and affection?"

"These can grow over time, and you will not have a greater chance at happiness than with Darcy," said her ladyship with a dismissive move of the hand.

"This is for me to decide, your ladyship."

"Obstinate, headstrong girl! Surely you must see—"

But Elizabeth had had enough. She did not think she could contain herself. Gathering all her remaining self-control, she rose from the table and excused herself, claiming she had a sudden headache and needed some rest. As she went through the door, Lady Catherine was on the verge of going after her when the Countess's voice retained her.

"Leave the girl be, Catherine. But I will tell you this: I would welcome her in the family were she to become my niece. There is a distinct lack of honesty in our circles, and she would be a very refreshing addition to them."

She then turned towards her nephew. "I have not seen you smile like that for a very long time—perhaps even since your father died. Were it not for your obvious surprise, I would have sworn that you discussed this with Catherine beforehand. Now you just have to convince the young lady."

Darcy was saved from answering by his other aunt, who looked as if she was pouting.

"I would be most seriously displeased if she were to refuse you, Darcy. Why, you are certainly far above her cousin!"

"Cousin? What cousin?"

"That ridiculous parson of mine. Oh, he has his uses, but they were in no way suited. I am glad he eventually decided to marry a less spirited lady—a Miss Lucas, if I remember what Miss Bennet told me."

Darcy frowned, trying to make sense of what he heard. He was fairly certain that no cousin of the Bennets had been present in Hertfordshire while he was visiting, and neither had the Bingley sisters learned anything about him from Miss Bennet.

"I do not believe I met him."

"He might have arrived around the time you left. He is their father's heir; there had been a breach in his relationship with his cousin, and I had encouraged him to heal it. His wish was to offer his hand to one of the daughters, but in the end, he chose one of their friends."

After some more thinking, Darcy ventured: "But he did propose to Miss Bennet first—is it what you are implying?"

Lady Catherine nodded. "She refused him, going against the wishes of her father. And this is the reason why she was cast out his home."

The Earl was frowning.

"We cannot have such a tale made public. Think of the gossip!"

Lady Catherine made a dismissive gesture with her hand. It was one she excelled at, for she practised it often. "Oh, if that were to be known, we would simply say that the two of them reached an understanding while they were both residing with the Bingleys." She turned towards her nephew. "You told us earlier that she stayed under their roof some days to nurse a sister. We will lead people to believe that she could not accept Collins because you were already engaged, but could not give her father an explanation since you did not approach him yet, and then turned to me when she was cast off."

"That seems reasonable," said the Countess.

"You all forget that she still has not accepted me."

"She will."

"And how will you explain that I did not go to see her father at once?"

"You wished to go to your solicitor first and present the draft of a settlement to the man."

"Have you a reasonable answer to present to all of my enquiries?"

"I hope so!" Lady Catherine looked smug.

Darcy sighed. "I should ensure she is well. Please excuse me, I shall join you later."

When Elizabeth had left the dining room, she had walked as fast as she could while trying to find her way back to her room. Obviously, she had failed, since she was now wandering through a picture gallery. She had decided to look at the portraits in order to take her mind off her current situation and was in the midst of doing so when she heard someone walking her way. She turned; it was Mr Darcy.

They looked at each other in silence, and she broke it first.

"How did you find me?"

"A footman told me what direction you took—you should have gone left on the second landing."

She sighed. She seemed unwilling to speak, and he began to worry.

"Miss Bennet?"

"You cannot have been serious."

He frowned and looked at her inquisitively.

She continued, "About marrying me. Why would _you_ want to marry _me_? Not two months ago I was not pretty enough to dance with! I cannot fathom it."

"I _did_ ask you to dance. Twice. Do you not remember that _you_ would not agree?"

Elizabeth fell silent again.

"If you want to know—it is the liveliness of your mind. I admire it very much."

She had turned her head and was looking at him in wonder.

"Appearances fade, but character _—that_ is what is truly important. How could I not admire you, either, when you walked a couple of miles to tend to your sister? When you spared no effort to nurse her?"

Hearing him speak about Jane, who had let her down, made tears well up in her eyes.

"I am sorry. I should not have spoken of her. It is still too soon."

Elizabeth, not trusting her voice, merely shrugged, when she was drawn into his arms. As soon as she realised what he was doing, she tensed. He contented himself to hold her, nestling her head under his chin, stroking her back and rocking her gently, but it was the first time she was held thus by a man—even her father—and she could not feel anything other than awkward. She backed away but his grip, though loose, was still strong enough that she could not break it.

"Release me, sir."

He looked at her, confused. "I only wish to comfort you."

"Well, I am not comfortable right now. Please, let me go."

He did at once, apologising for his forwardness, and offered to lead her back to her room. Knowing that she needed help to find her rooms without becoming lost again, she accepted. He extended his arm, which she took after some hesitation.

They walked in silence through the halls until they arrived at the door of the sitting room she shared with Lady Catherine. They stood in front of it, facing each other, not knowing what to say or do. He broke the silence first.

"I know this has been very sudden, but ... have you still no answer to give me?"

She shook her head. "Tomorrow."

He sighed and then smiled.

"I will leave you to your thoughts."

He bowed over her hand and departed. Elizabeth felt relieved that he did not push her further.

The candles had been snuffed, and the room was bathed in a reddish light coming from the embers in the fireplace. Elizabeth had gone to bed and drawn the bed curtains some time ago, but sleep still eluded her. Mr Darcy's proposal—or was it Lady Catherine's?—had astonished her.

Marrying Mr Darcy would offer her security—but was that enough? To be sure, he was not as mortifying as Mr Collins, nor as dismissive of her feelings, but she did not love him. She thought that she might come to like him, and even to care for him—and he apparently cared for her. All in all, this was probably a better foundation for a marriage than the one her father and mother had. She had thought about the interactions they had had at Netherfield and, now that she had pushed aside her prejudiced view of him, her wilfulness to see everything he did in the light of a supposed dislike on his part, she realised that she had had some interesting discussions with Darcy. During those, he had seemed to respect her opinions. He also understood her need for space. Maybe she should not ask for more. She might not be happy—but maybe she could find some measure of contentment. It was very unlikely, now that she thought about it, that being a governess would afford her the same opportunity.

Becoming a governess had appealed to her because she had always liked to take care of children—but if she married Darcy, she would have her own children to dote on. The thought made her blush but, for the first time since she had received her uncle's letter, she felt something akin to hope. Maybe she would not find happiness with her _husband_ , but she could not imagine that being a mother would not make her happy. Still, it was puzzling: why did the thought of having Collins's child make her shudder in revulsion when she was only mildly apprehensive about carrying Darcy's? Perhaps it was the fact that he did not make her cringe whenever he opened his mouth and seemed to realise that he needed to keep his distances. Darcy might not be the very best of men, but at least, he had _some_ sense of tact.

Unlike her mother.

And then it hit her. The truth that was she had been too often mortified by her parents to bear the thought that her children could be mortified by one of theirs. Darcy might be cold—or appear cold, for he had recently shown her another side of himself—but his public behaviour would not make his child blush in embarrassment. Satisfied with this answer, she decided that marrying Mr Darcy might not be such a dreadful thing and at last managed to find sleep.

When morning came, Elizabeth thought one more time about her decision and saw no reason to change her mind. She hoped she would have a moment to speak to Darcy alone, preferably early in the day.

She had no way to know this, but after they had both departed the dining room, Lady Catherine had all but ordered the rest of the family to eat their breakfast in their rooms. They had all agreed, more or less willingly—Darcy's cousins, in particular, would have liked to witness any conversation between the gentleman and his prospective bride. They might not have spoken much the evening before, but they had listened attentively.

Thus, Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves conveniently alone for breakfast. Once they were seated with their plates and cups full, Darcy dismissed all the footmen but one. The man looked familiar to Elizabeth, and she was looking at him when her companion explained:

"You might already have seen Smith at Netherfield. He is my valet."

She nodded. His—their—privacy would be ensured by the fact a most trusted servant, and only him, would be able to hear them. She appreciated that he wished to avoid making her uneasy. Leaving the door open in that season would be unreasonable, because of the draughts, but she was not comfortable with the idea of being enclosed alone with him, even if it was only to converse.

"Miss Bennet, have you had enough time to reflect on my proposal? Do you need more time?"

She took a deep breath. "I had all the time I needed."

"And?"

"Sir, you must know that I do not love you, that I have barely begun to like you, and that I would accept your offer only to find some security."

He looked at her intently. "Are you saying you are willing to marry me?"

"If you do not mind my lack of ..." she waved her hand, and Darcy caught it.

"I do not mind. I hope, though, that your feelings will change in time and that security is not your _only_ motivation. Please know that though I would be happy to marry you whatever your reasons, I would be willing to give you more time to decide."

"I would like to have a family," she admitted, looking at her plate with concentration. "As for my feelings, I also hope they will change, but I cannot know for certain, can I?"

He kissed her hand lightly and released it.

"As long as you do not dismiss the possibility that they do, I am willing to take my chance."

She smiled, and they both returned to their breakfast.

The others were not long in joining them, much to the displeasure of Lady Catherine. She was slightly mollified on learning that the young people had come to an understanding. It was decided that a licence would be procured from the bishop in Lichfield and that the couple would be married a few weeks hence, long enough for Elizabeth to be considered a resident in the area, but before the groom's family was to depart. Elizabeth was grateful for the delay, for that gave her a couple of weeks to sketch Mr Darcy's character to her satisfaction before tying herself to him. The objection of her age was raised, but Lady Catherine produced Mr Bennet's letter and argued that it could easily be interpreted as his consent for her to do anything—including getting married. As the bishop was a friend of her late husband, she did not foresee any difficulty in that matter; and indeed, none was encountered.

Elizabeth received, in the months which followed her marriage, some news of the Bennets through Mr Bingley, who remained a very close friend of her husband. He had come back to Netherfield shortly after Twelfth Night, hoping to court Jane Bennet despite the misgivings of his sisters, only to be taken aback by the gossip related to that lady's sister. That alone would not have deterred him, for he was inclined to believe that, if Miss Elizabeth had run away to avoid marrying her cousin, surely Miss Bennet would not agree to marry a man she did not hold in affection. He was promptly disillusioned.

During his first visit to Longbourn, Mrs Bennet had loudly bemoaned what she called her second eldest's selfishness and stubbornness. Each of her daughters had agreed in her own way. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia had proclaimed her to be silly for not taking the chance to be the first married, even if it was not to an officer, for it would be a far better fate for her than ending up a spinster and the redcoats had not paid her that much attention anyway. Miss Lydia had gone as far as saying that she would be ashamed of not being married before turning twenty. Mr Bingley had also tried to block his ears when the youngest Bennets had alluded to some far more improper possibilities egarding what might have befallen their sister. Miss Mary had primly quoted moralistic extracts regarding obedience to one's parents, and he would not have expected anything else from her. However, Miss Bennet's reaction had truly shocked him, as it had shocked Elizabeth about six weeks before. She had owned, in a sad, gentle voice, that she had been disappointed that Elizabeth refused to take a step that would have given joy to all her family and that thinking of herself and dismissing the feelings of the others had always been Elizabeth's way. Mr Bingley, remembering how she had taken care of her elder sister when she had fallen ill under his roof, how her primary goal then was Jane's comfort, had felt disgusted.

Shaken, he had distanced himself from the Bennet family. They, of course, blamed Elizabeth for his abandonment of Jane, both before and after learning of their daughter's wedding. They had learned of it from Mr Collins who, on the occasion of his wedding, had shared the news he had received from his estimable patroness. The people of Meryton decided that Mr Bingley, as Mr Darcy's friend, must always have known of that understanding and had kept their secret. When he did not renew the lease of Netherfield, they understood that he would not stay in a country where his close friend was at odds with his neighbours.

Mr Bingley leased another estate, still in the neighbourhood of London to please his sisters whose preference was to stay not far from it, but this lease was not renewed either for he fell in love with and married the only daughter of one his neighbours, who stood to inherit her father's estate.

The Bennet's attitude also did not sit well with Colonel Forster, head of the local militia, who found them to be a bad influence on his wife. The young Mrs Forster, who had once been close to Lydia, distanced herself from her, and when the regiment moved to Brighton later that year, the youngest Bennet girl mourned their departure along with the other Hertfordshire young ladies.

Contrarily to her expectations, Elizabeth had many sources of happiness in her marriage. She found herself very much in love with her new husband and suspected she might have begun to feel so even prior to their wedding. Darcy had not concealed his sentiments for her, and when she told him hers, it can be conjectured that he expressed himself as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love is supposed to do on such an occasion.

They went to Rosings for Easter whenever it was possible—which, given her many confinements, happened every other year—and Elizabeth had the joy to resume her friendship with the former Miss Lucas. By that channel, she managed to hear some news from her family. They fared generally well, and her sisters found tolerable matches, but their importance in the neighbourhood had been somewhat diminished. The Bennets had contacted her when they had learned what advantageous match she had made, but she had steadfastly refused to answer any of them. It appeared that, like her husband had proclaimed once in regard to himself, Elizabeth Darcy's good opinion, once lost, was lost forever.

However, while she had lost the family she had been born into, she had gained another. Lady Catherine soon became a favourite, and they were always on the most intimate terms. Her ladyship delighted in visiting Pemberley, often when least expected, and never hesitated to share her opinion regarding the manner in which her nephew and niece should settle their differences or organize a closet, for that matter. It was even rumoured that, on one particular occasion, she had scolded them back into harmony. Lady Catherine, who was always glad to get a young person well placed out, considered that the marriage of her nephew with Miss Elizabeth Bennet—a young woman without family, connexions, or fortune—was her greatest success, and she never missed the chance to boast about it. Elizabeth, as well as Darcy, really loved her; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the person who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.


End file.
